


dear fear, i have met you

by Violet_DeLights



Series: Still Not Bitten AU [2]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Depressed!Clementine, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Mild Sexual Content, References to Depression, Sexual Tension, Suicide Attempt, depressed!louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 00:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21234797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_DeLights/pseuds/Violet_DeLights
Summary: Clementine hated telling people why she was there, but Dr. Carlos felt that telling others was a good way to 'take ownership of your condition, to lessen the impact that its perceived control had over your life, and to foster trust between the residents of the facility'.She thought it was a bunch of bullshit.





	dear fear, i have met you

**Author's Note:**

> This is not suppose to reflect mental health conditions with any sort of accuracy. Some aspects may be exaggerated for story purposes. Clementine and Louis are also seventeen bordering on eighteen here. Enjoy.

_Why's my mind on autopilot all the time?_  
_I'm feeling like the world's back on rewind_  
_ I can't seem to find the words to define_  
_ The way I feel when I go through this_

The sliver of moon was soft and hazy, barely peeking out from behind a few wispy, grayed clouds. The scant stars that were out flickered in and out, fighting against the mechanical orange glow of the many streetlamps scattered across the grounds.

Clementine curled up on the ledge of the window, arms wrapped around her drawn knees, pressing her forehead to the chilled glass until all she could see was the sky beyond the reflection of her own eyes.

She liked this place best at night, when all the other residents were in their rooms and it was just her and the soft moonlight awake. She wasn't, technically, suppose to be out at all, they locked the doors of the suites at night-- for their own safety, they said-- but Carley had a soft spot for her and Clementine never caused half as much trouble as the other kids, so she was allowed to wander the empty hallways at night, studying the way the dimmed lights cast shadows onto the pale yellow walls until she could get comfortable by the huge windowpane at its end.

Tonight her serenity was broken by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps and a resounding crash against the set of double doors at the other end of the hallway. Head snapping up in amazement-- those doors were thick, what on earth hit them?-- another few thuds banged against the doors before she registered the muffled shouting on the other end.

Clementine uncurled, letting one foot touch the linoleum floor, hands falling to her lap, body tensed, as she waited to see what would play out. The door rattled once more and suddenly the shouts cut off. There was a second of silence and then the card reader on the side of the wall beeped, flashing green, before the doors were flung open and a tangle of bodies stumbled in.

Mike and Luke, the two orderlies, were struggling, the boy between them straining forward as they locked his arms behind his back.

“Get the fuck _off _me!” she heard him snarl and then he kicked his legs off the ground, frantically twisting, and Mike let out a string of curses as Luke's hand momentarily slipped from the boy's arm.

The boy stumbled a couple of steps, yanking his other arm to try to dislodge Mike, when his head came up and his eyes met hers. He abruptly came to a standstill, the orderlies redoubling their efforts to restrain him, but everything else seemed to pause in that moment.

Despite the grimace that had taken over his features, which was rapidly softening the longer she stared at him, she could just make out the deep brown of his eyes, the mess of dreadlocks swaying against his cheeks, and the dark skin of his face, spattered with freckles. His brown leather jacket sleeve was bunched down one arm from his struggles, exposing the green v-neck he wore underneath. His jeans were loose and frayed at the knees, brown boots scuffing the floor as he was yanked back.

Clementine watched them wrestle the boy to the floor and Mike withdrew a syringe, needle glinting in the faint light, before she looked away, back out her window, ignoring the grunt of pain that followed.

For a moment there was nothing but the sound of Mike and Luke's heavy pants as they caught their breath. The rasp of clothing against the tiles filled her ears as the boy's body was dragged up off the ground, before she felt a gentle hand touch her shoulder. Glancing up at the corresponding reflection, she saw Mike give her a smile full of pity.

“Time for bed, Clementine,” he said softly.

She nodded and slid down from her perch, drifting down the hallway until she came to her room, D4. She slipped inside and listened to the electronic buzz of the door lock click into place before she went to her bed, bypassing the bare bookshelf and equally bare desk in one corner. She toed off her slip on shoes before she pulled back the covers and clambered in, not bothering to change out of her scrubs from the day.

It didn't matter if she slept in them or not, they'd just hand her new ones the next day. And the next.

And the next.

Her eyes fluttered closed and if she dreamed she didn't remember it.

~~~

Bright and early the next morning found her in the large group therapy room, shifting in the hard plastic chair, waiting for the doctor to come in. The other kids around her seemed just as impatient, muttering lowly to each other.

Clementine felt Violet settle next to her and dipped her head up to offer the other girl a small, strained smile, an action her face was rapidly becoming unfamiliar with.

Violet shook her shaggy blonde hair out of her eyes and smiled back, tugging at the hem of her pale blue scrub top, kicking her legs out to cross at the ankles as she slouched.

Across from them, Aasim was trying, unsuccessfully, to get Ruby to look at him. Clementine wondered what he had done this time to piss her off as the fiery redhead purposefully angled her body away from his, arms crossed and scowl firmly in place. She could tell from the way his brow furrowed in response that he was starting to get desperate.

To the side of them, Mitch and Brody were chuckling at something that Marlon whispered to them from the corner of his mouth. They were a motley bunch, as different as they could be from each other in terms of looks and personality, from Marlon's dirty blonde mullet and temper to Aasim's dark complexion and his tendency to lash out.

The only thing they all had in common was that they were all stuck here. They were all sick in one way or another.

Dr. Carlos finally sidled in and cleared his throat to gain their attention, crossing the room quickly and sitting in one of the last two empty chairs. Clementine could see a coffee stain on the lapel of his white lab coat, and the dark circles under his eyes.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said cheerfully, waiting until they all gave grumbled responses before continuing. “We have a new guest.”

The door opened again and in strode the boy from last night, decked out in a set of blue scrubs of his own, his slip on sneakers squeaking just slightly as he walked. Clementine sat up straighter.

The only available seat left was next to her and she felt him pause before it as he registered who she was, the weight of his stare pressing down on her and causing her to let out a sigh of relief when he finally looked away and plopped down.

“Now, since he's new--”

“Louis, man, what brings you back here?!” Marlon exclaimed, grin wide as he, too, straightened.

“They must have missed my jokes,” the boy—Louis-- shot back and she shivered at the sound of it, warm and friendly.

“Now, now,” Dr. Carlos interrupted. “As I was saying, we have a new patient. Let's begin with some introductions, shall we? Everyone give your name and diagnosis.”

Clementine bit her lip. She hated telling people why she was there, but Doctor Carlos felt that telling others was a good way to 'take ownership of your condition, to lessen the impact that its perceived control had over your life, and to foster trust between the residents of the facility'.

She thought it was a bunch of bullshit.

Still she waited as the group had completed it's circle, the repetition of name and diagnosis soothing in its familiarity. Violet had Anorexia, Mitch had ADHD, Marlon had Intermittent Explosive Disorder, Aasim had Borderline Personality Disorder, Brody had Anxiety, and Ruby was Bipolar.

Clementine shrunk in her seat as all eyes came to her. Louis-- when had his chair come so close to hers?-- pressed his shoulder against hers and the comfort of the gesture broke her uncomfortable trance.

“Clementine. I have depression,” she mumbled.

She gave a shaky exhale as everyone moved their attention to Louis expectantly.

“I'm Louis or, as the orderlies like to call me, 'that little bastard', whichever you prefer,” he said nonchalantly.

Clementine gave a snort before she could help it, clapping her hand over her mouth as everyone's stares jumped back to her. Next to her, she felt Louis shake with silent laughter.

“I also have depression,” he continued cheerfully.

There was a pause and then-- “Right, well, now that we have the introductions out of the way, let's open the floor to progress. Marlon, let's start with you. Have you been using those techniques we talked about to diffuse your anger?”

Clementine felt it coming as she sunk into herself but there was nothing she could do to stop it, everyone's voices washing over her. The room didn't cease to exist as she gazed ahead, but she stopped being aware of it. It was as though everything was wrapped in cotton, distant and cold, and in this space nothing mattered, not even her. She didn't feel anything except the pressure of hard plastic against her back and the little gusts of air conditioning causing the hairs at the back of her neck to rise.

She drifted there for some time, in that space, before she felt Louis's hand in her lap, sliding underneath her own and twisting their fingers together. He clasped them together tightly, almost a shade too tightly, causing sparks of pain to shoot up her arm, but Clementine was grateful as she found herself breaking the surface of the fog that had descended, the room coming back into view before her. She squeezed back and glanced at him to find him watching her, understanding and compassion clear in his eyes and kind smile.

She gave his hand one last squeeze before she went to pull away but he merely readjusted his grip and kept her hand trapped.

They stayed like that the rest of the session, sharing that small amount of warm acceptance between their palms.

~~~

Over the next few days, Clementine couldn't turn around without finding Louis near her, cracking jokes about the doctor and orderlies (Mike and Luke in particular, it seemed he still held a grudge from that first night), and giving her the chocolates he palmed from unattended food trays. She wasn't used to being around people anymore, but he made something soft and yearning slowly bloom inside of her with every carefree grin and terrible punchline.

She found they spent more and more time together, nearly from sunup to sundown most days as she listlessly walked the hallways and he trailed behind her, singing out of tune on purpose to irritate everyone. When he was near, it wasn't as hard to remember how to smile or enjoy the sunshine or to truly taste the smooth chocolates that dissolved on her tongue.

Clementine found herself asking for a favor and, when she opened Louis's door a few nights later and led him to her moonlit ledge (Carley standing by the side and watching them, beaming, keycard in hand) it felt natural.

It was as easy as breathing to curl up in the corner and watch him do the same in the other, legs tangling together.

They watched the moon for awhile, the silence between them comforting before he broke it. “Clem, what happened?”

She knew what he was asking, it was something they had all asked each other at some point, curiosity eating at them. After all, plenty of people had disorders but you only ended up at a facility like this if _something_ had happened.

She almost didn't answer, didn't want to, but then his ankles knocked against hers and she let out a shaky exhale.

“You know, I had it pretty good at home,” she started out slowly. “I have an adoptive dad—Lee-- and he's amazing. He took me in when I was so young and he always works so hard. He even adopted my brother, AJ, when he found out he'd gone into the foster system. I went to a nice school with a lot of friends, and I had a nice house with a nice room.”

She stalled, knowing where her story would turn, a hard lump lodging in her throat. At his encouraging nod, she continued, “I started feeling tired all the time at first. No matter how much sleep I got, it was never enough. I was taking naps _everywhere. _And then it got harder and harder just to do simple things like homework, or show up to volleyball practice, or pay attention in class. And then it was hard to get out of bed at all.”

Clementine clutched his hands, dangling from atop his knees, not able to meet his eyes but needing something to ground her.

“It was difficult to sleep after a while. I was sleeping so much that, it was like, my body had had enough and didn't want to anymore. But I was still so tired. I went into Lee's medicine cabinet. I knew he had sleeping pills to help him sometimes.”

She almost thought she couldn’t finish, tears making her vision go blurry and breath hitching and, god, when was the last time she cried like this?

But Louis dropped his legs to the floor to shuffle closer and then he was winding an arm around her shoulders and pushing her face to his own to rest their foreheads together and she let the sobs overtake her as she choked the rest out.

“I—I took the whole bottle. I woke up here. That was a year ago.”

Louis let her cry until she was spent, weakly gasping warm puffs of air against his throat by the time she trailed off, causing him to shudder, before he looped his other arm around her and brought her in for a hard hug.

“I'm so sorry, Clem,” he told her, voice rough with emotion. “This-- well-- it might not be what you want to hear, but, I get it, Clem, I really do.”

And then he was pulling back from her and extending his arm, pushing up the long sleeve of the scrub top to reveal a myriad of deep angry-red scars crisscrossing all the way up to his elbow and beyond. Cutting through them all was a single, long slice that starts at the crook of his elbow and flowed down to his wrist. Little black stitches stood out starkly against his dark skin.

Clementine allowed her fingers to flutter over them tenderly and, at the action, she heard Louis swear softly.

When she caught his eyes, fingertip gently resting over the bend of his elbow where the snarl of black thread was thickest, she saw nothing but fondness there and, when their lips met, it felt like the first time she'd properly breathed in ages.

~~~

The days passed quicker, somehow, after that, and Clementine was eating everything on her food trays, wandering the grounds with residents other than Louis during their exercise periods, laughing when Ruby ended up inevitably chasing Aasim ahead of them all when he stuttered out something thoughtlessly. She took less and less little white pills every morning on her Doctor's orders and, for the first time in a long time, she had hope that she’d live a life beyond that of pastel yellow walls and group therapy.

She should have known it wouldn't last.

~~~

One day, Louis wasn’t at group and he wasn’t at lunch and he wasn’t in his room. Desperate, she asked nearly everyone she could get hold of, but the last person to see him was Luke, who said that, after they passed out the letters from home, he took off over the grounds to the treeline.

He was fine, Luke assured her, pulled up the camera feed of the grounds at the security desk to show Louis sat in the grass, back to a tree and face blank as a piece of paper dangled from his hand. She thanked him profusely before dashing out of the room and launching herself down the stairs, taking them two at a time until she burst through the doors to the first floor, sunlight nearly blinding her. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she ran, but she didn’t stop until she skidded in front of him, hands falling to her knees as she sucked in lungfuls of air, chest on fire.

“What-- are you-- doing out here?” she gasped.

When he didn’t answer immediately, she looked up to see his gaze fixed on that same piece of paper. She reached out and, when he didn’t react, tugged it from his grip.

_Dear Louis,_

_Your mother and I were so pleased to hear from the doctors the tremendous progress you've been making. You've been doing so well with therapy and the regimen of medications that you've been put on that's he's recommended that you can come home to finish out your treatment._

_We're so proud, Lou._

_See you soon._

_Love,_

_Mom&Dad_

The words barely registered at first and it was only after reading through it three more times that she noticed her shaking hands crumpling the paper and the droplets falling on the inked words and smudging them.

Why did she ever think that that fog of before was terrible? She'd rather feel nothing than have to feel this.

Suddenly, she was crushed against Louis's chest, the letter floating to the ground, forgotten, as she returned his wild embrace. He buried his face in her hair and she couldn’t get close enough, needed more of him, needed him to never leave her.

When he kissed her it was painful in more ways than one. Their teeth clacked and their tears turned it salty, but the absolute burn in her chest wouldn’t abate.

When they collapsed to the ground she didn’t protest, simply sunk with him until she was pressed back into the grass, with him trailing wet kisses up the column of her throat and his hands sneaking up her scrub top to cup her modest breasts through her bra.

She panted, back arching into his touch, an entirely different sort of warmth curling low in her belly.

Her hands weren’t idle either, roaming up his top to scratch down his back, causing him to choke against her collarbone.

One of his hands slid under her back to fumble at the clasp of her bra and his mouth met hers in a heated kiss and it was almost too much, this ferocious want that consumed her.

His fingers caught at the clasp and she shifted her arm to curve around his neck and bring him down flush against her when her elbow brushed against crinkling paper. At the sound, Louis stilled and the sweet glow inside her sputtered out, leaving her cold.

He scrambled up and away from her, shirt still rucked up to his armpits as he shoved his face into his hands and shuddered. Clementine didn’t move to touch him, instead sitting up and pushing her own shirt down, hating the telling heat of her cheeks and the tears she felt pricking her eyes. She wanted to run back to her room, wanted to huddle against her shadowed ledge and forget all about this boy with sunshine smiles and fever warm kisses.

When he finally lowered his hands and looked to her, his expression turned stricken and he practically fell over himself crawling to her, shirt finally sliding back down.

“Clem, hey, hey, no,” he chanted, once more reaching out and settling her in his lap, her head tucked under his chin. “It's not that I don't want you, Clem. Never think that. But not like this. You deserve better.”

She huffed, chuckling weakly with relief and his hold tightened.

“Shit, Clem. You deserve flowers, and candlelight, and sappy music. Not this.”

She let the quiet gather between them before she purposefully broke it.

“Okay.”

“...What?”

“Okay. I'll wait until you get flowers, candlelight, and shitty music.”

A bark of laughter escaped him and it rumbled through her frame. “I said _sappy.”_

“Same difference,” she shrugged, smile stretching wide across her face, relief still surging through her.

“Deal,” he said fervently. He didn’t shift her from his lap and she didn’t budge either, letting themselves stay entwined as the sun dipped below the horizon.

~~~

She was not there when his parents came and packed him away, was in a private session with Dr. Carlos when it happened.

He told her what great strides she was making, that he thought they could roll back her dosage even more, and to keep up being active, as it was clearly doing wonders for her. She nodded through it all until she could make it back to her room and, when she passed Louis's room to find the door wide open and his few books and papers gone, bed neatly made and empty, she merely continued to her own bed and crawled beneath the covers, pulling them over her head.

She didn’t cry and she blinked when the hand shoved under her pillow brushed against a thick envelope.

When she pulled it out, it had her name scrawled across the front in Louis's loopy signature and she pressed it to her lips as she laughed.

~~~

A few months later, when she was back home in her bedroom-- which hasn’t been touched at all, Lee assured her-- she would throw her backpack into the same corner by the closet she always had, would toe off her sneakers and leave them by the door, and would sit down at her crowded desk and push old stuffed animals and essays away to clear a space.

The letter she pulled from her pocket was creased and well-worn and she opened it again as she pulled a sheet of paper from the drawer at her side.

Inside was a hastily jotted address, and so many x's and o's crowding the page that she'd nearly gotten sick from laughing so hard.

_Write me, _it said at the bottom.

So she put her pen to paper.

And she did.


End file.
